


Melting Sugar

by OMGitsgreen



Series: Stories of CHB [4]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Boys In Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nico is a Dork, Post Three Days in Infirmary, Pre-The Trials of Apollo, Will is a thoughtful sweetheart, and looking for happiness, baby Nico was an adorable hellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7622578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGitsgreen/pseuds/OMGitsgreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my gods—you did not just say that to me, tell me you didn’t just say that to me.”  “I’m sorry was that not humerus enough for you, Death Boy?” After a good memory and an honest question, Nico goes on the hunt for one more thing that will make him happy: his mother's cookie recipe. But that quest is never one taken alone, and it is added in unexpected ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melting Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> So I found a recipe in one of my grandma’s cookbooks that was literally perfect so I just couldn’t let it slide. It was my fanfiction author duty to incorporate this cookie into a solangelo fic. 
> 
> In any case, enjoy!

In Nico’s dream, he was a child.

The Lethe had mostly washed out his memories as a child, leaving him with destinations and dates but little in between to fill in the gaps. As if his whole life’s history was a fourth grade timeline to be filled out by said fourth grader without being given an introductory paragraph. The memories he did have were bright, dreamy, and distant. In fact, Nico often worried that he had created them all to fill the gaps in. But this dream was a memory, and he knew it.

“Nico, what is wrong?” Nico knew this voice, knew it so viscerally that it hurt him. His mother’s voice, low and gentle and a calming wave. Nico felt tears burning in his eyes, he was scared.

“Mamma,” Nico croaked. “Bad dream.”

Her mother shifted more into his vision as she kneeled down to gather him up in her arms. Her silk nightdress was soft against his arms, and she cradled him to her chest. This, Nico thought, aching in a deep place that had mourned a loss he hadn’t realized he had. This was what Nico was missing.

Nico spied more when he focused. Nico had toddled himself down the living room, down the stairs though his mother hadn’t ever liked him to walk down the steep staircase alone. But it had been between the terrifying nightmare and his mother’s disproval, and Nico was sure he would rather weather his mother’s worried frown for a moment.

“Do you want to tell me about it,” his mother asked quietly, brushing his curls through her fingertips.

“In my dream there were people yelling at me, and a big scary dog was in a dark place,” Nico reported seriously. “The big scary dog wasn’t mean to me but it barked so loud my head hurt, and then the yelling-people threw a radio at me from a gross river.”

“You were very brave then, Mamma’s little warrior,” his mother said just as seriously as she pressed warm kisses to his cheek and Nico nuzzled further against her neck. Nico didn’t often get held or kissed unless it was his Mamma (once one of the neighbors had tried to hold him but she had said mean things about his Mamma not being married so he might’ve taken the opportunity to bite her but she really had deserved it and so ever since then his Mamma was wary about putting him in stranger’s arms). Yesterday he had only been held _once_ , even though the ladies who were his mother’s not-friends-friends had cooed over Bianca and her pretty braids and golden-eyes for what had to have been hours. Everyone loved Bianca, it was as normal as blinking. And besides, Bianca was Mamma’s daughter and Nico was absolutely sure his Mamma was the prettiest woman who had ever lived so Bianca was obviously second-prettiest. Everyone fell in love with his mother when she floated into a room, so it was natural that everyone loved Bianca too. But Nico wasn’t as good at talking, and didn’t like strangers or the people who talked to his mother because she was pretty and had money. So, Nico was quite happy with his self-appointed position of Mamma-and-Bianca protector. He was small, but he was quite proud of his kick which had once sent a boy who had pulled on Bianca’s braid crying to Sister Sophia.

He was sure he would be fine if only his mother held him and she and Bianca loved him, but he would like it if she held him more. Nico promised himself then that he wouldn’t complain about eating peppers and would do his lesson instead of playing cards, figuring that would be ample payment for more holding. And if he was trying to be good, he supposed there were a few things he needed to set straight.

“I’m sorry, Mamma,” Nico murmured.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I walked down the stairs by myself. I was really careful though,” Nico immediately admitted.

“Just that is enough,” his mother sighed sweetly. Nico took in a breath that soothed his guilt, soothed by the gentle circles his mother rubbed into his back and the scent of fresh lemon peels which lingered in her hair. “Do you smell the cookies I was baking?”

“Baking?” Nico asked pulling away to look at his mother’s face. She gave him a conspiratorial smile, one that was mischievous and sparkled in her dark eyes. She spun them as she floated to the kitchen and Nico couldn’t help but laugh.

“I was feeling a little sentimental this evening, so I was baking something your father likes,” his mother explained as they made it into the kitchen.

“Babbo?” Nico asked confused. His mother usually left the cooking and baking to the staff unless it was a special occasion. But maybe it was. The topic of his father was an odd one, mostly because he didn’t think about him often. He was more of a thought then a person, and his father liking anything was odd to him because that made him more real.

“Your father, well, he has a particular diet—“

“Is he like Sister Sophia? She only eats bread, fruit, and water,” Nico asked suspiciously. Her mother’s laughter was bright and bubbling, the oven was warm and the heat and the scent of lemons and almonds made Nico’s belly clench with excitement.

“Oh Nico, definitely not,” his mother waved off.

“That’s good,” Nico agreed, since Sister Sophia was very mean about spelling and smelt like baking soda and was weird. He wouldn’t like it if his father was like her in any way.

“I was going to make what he liked the most, would you like to try it?” his mother asked, placing Nico down and touching his cheek. “Nico—“

* * *

“Nico!”

Will’s voice chirped, and wrenched from his dream. Nico felt his eyes slide over to where Will nearly bounded up to meet him. Nico had fallen asleep in the grove just past the lunch pavilion, with the sun warming his face and an amiable silence pervading the scene which had only been broken by the humming of insects and calls of birds. The silence was immediately dashed by Will Solace with his flip flops slapping the gravel in a way that must have been dangerous, bright orange CHB shirt, his cheerful wide grin which glinted sunlight so brilliantly that Nico might have been able to Iris message with it, and the unfortunate volume of Nico’s heart which was suddenly in his ears.

“No,” Nico told him bluntly.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” Will said back immediately, not deterred, but instead having the gall of being amused.

“No matter what it is the answer is no, I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what? Sulking?” Will challenged with his hands on his hips.

“Yes, it’s actually very thought intensive and you are distracting me. Good bye.” 

“Someone’s moody today, wake up on the wrong side of the mausoleum?”

“Oh my gods—you did not just say that to me, tell me you didn’t just say that to me.” 

“I’m sorry was that not _humerus_ enough for you, Death Boy?”

Nico forced himself up and began to walk away. Will was nearly wheezing between each bout of laughter. Nico’s ears were unbearably hot and he had the incredibly great idea to bash his head into a wall so he didn’t have to deal, or run away. Whatever was easier and more convenient to him would have sufficed. But unfortunately Nico’s escape was impossible as Will easily kept in stride with him (due to Will Solace’s dumb long legs that were definitely not nice) and there wasn’t a good wall to smack his head into. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Will said, wiping a tear from his eyes which glittered. “But I really did need to ask you how you are feeling.”

“Why do you need to know how I’m feeling?” Nico asked him sharply. 

“Have you ever considered that I care?” Will asked, before receiving the blank expression on Nico’s face and giving a rueful grin in return. “Well, I do. I just want to check up with you.”

“I’m fine, I got out of the infirmary three days ago, I haven’t done any shadow traveling—I’m fine,” Nico said with a scoff. “Why would you think I’m not fine?”

“But you haven’t visited me at all, so can you see where I’m getting my concern from?” Will asked as he hopped over tree-root.

“Why do I need to visit you?” Nico asked sincerely clueless as they stood outside of his cabin. “You see me at camp, where we live—you know—together.”

“Maybe because we’re friends? Don’t you visit your friends?” Will offered him, his eyes twinkling in a way that was making his stomach twist in a very unhappy way that Nico ignored pointedly.

“Normally people force interaction against my will. But sure, fine, sorry,” Nico scoffed rubbing his still sleep heavy eyes. “Since you are so incapable of entertaining yourself I suppose I could visit sometimes.” 

“That’s all I ask,” Will chuckled before his bright smile gentled. “Are you still having trouble sleeping? Bad dreams?”

“No…it was a good dream, I think?” Nico said, rubbing his head. “It was more of a memory…it was nice.”

“Do you mind me asking what it was about?” Will asked him curiously. 

“Cookies, I think,” Nico answered noncommittally. _Nico, let’s go make you something to give us joy._ That had been the rest of the sentence his mother had said to him which his mind supplied. It was a ridiculous, silly, and achingly lovely sentiment. Every detail he had recovered from the dream he would comb over meticulously when he was alone, file it in the precious place of good things he was dead-set on accumulating and organizing for when he needed them. That place in his head was still small, but it was present. And it was a relief from the usual things that were hiding and cluttered there. As soon as he could, he would set off to find more things to fill that place with.

“Cookies? Do you like cookies?”

“I guess so,” Nico muttered before frowning. Did he like cookies? Everyone liked cookies, Nico reminded himself. He didn’t have a negative opinion on them, so he could say with some confidence that he didn’t mind cookies at least. Most foods occupied a sort of grey area to Nico, at least, since a while back. He had to eat, but he didn’t get pleasure from it on a daily basis. So the memory came as a strange reminder that once, even he had been excited about dessert. He had been a little kid once, and that was strange to remember.

“Wait how can you just guess so? What about sugar cookies?” Will asked sounding oddly concerned.

“Sugar cookies? I mean, they’re fine?”

“What?” Will asked sucking in a breath. “Well, what type of cookies were in your dream?”

“I…” Nico pressed his hand to his forehead, stopping in mid-step. “Something my mom used to make, I don’t know.”

“Do you remember anything that was in the cookies?” Will asked, his odd focus and interest unnerving Nico slightly.

“Why are you so invested? It’s just cookies,” Nico told him, feeling himself prickle.

“Nico, what does ambrosia taste like to you?” Will asked suddenly, though he was obviously curious there was something serious about his tone.

“Taste?” Nico asked before making a face as his face pinched. “I don’t like ambrosia.”

“How can you not like ambrosia?” Will asked more surprised than judgmental.

“I don’t know, it tastes…” Nico struggled for a moment. Ambrosia never worked as well for him as other demigods, not that he could ever figure out why. He thought that, like everything, it probably had to do with his status as a son of Hades. Unicorn draught had proven to be a fine substitute for when he had to, even earth magic. But ambrosia was something he couldn’t get a grasp on as it tasted to him like an echo of something nostalgic, something that was just on the tip of his tongue, and yet far too distant to leave an impression. “It doesn’t matter. The cookies, they had lemon and almond in them I think. They were a biscotti.”

“That sounds good,” Will hummed pleasantly.

“Yeah, they were. I think,” Nico murmured more to himself then to Will. “It’s been so long, I’m not sure anymore.”

Will just gave Nico a sad smile in return, but did not push the issue. Nico was reminded of yet another thing that he liked about Will, though he wasn’t sure where to sort any of those things yet. But at least he had an inkling of what he could do next.

* * *

Over the next three weeks, Nico began his small personal mission to try to find anything similar to his mother’s baking. He was sure if he tasted it, he would know. And he was sure that would make him happy, and things that made him happy were in seriously few numbers and exactly what he needed. New York and neighboring New Jersey had no shortage of Italian bakeries or cafes or restaurants for him to try his luck with. More often than not, Nico would walk into an establishment, and seemingly whoever spoke to him could sniff out his heritage faster than a hellhound. More Nonnas, Uncles, and Mammas had fussed over him in that few weeks than he had experienced since he was a little boy in suspenders and shined shoes at Christmas time. It was unnerving (in the horribly comforting way that Nico would never admit to anyone). And all of them tried to help him by giving him an array of biscotti and other cookies that left Nico more-often-then-not overwhelmed. But plenty of campers delighted in the boxes which would appear in the pavilion after Nico tried all the flavors and ruled them out, and none of them needed to know it was him on this strange journey.

Nico had just returned from his last trip, and was sitting alone at Hades table glaring into potato salad when suddenly he saw a very familiar figure walking up. Will Solace, holding a box under his arm, with a brilliant grin which made Nico squirm slightly in his seat. To Nico’s utter shock, Will sat himself down on the table and slid the box to him with a note.

“There you go,” Will said confidently.

“What is this?” Nico asked, opening the top only to reveal a line of lady-finger shaped cookies lightly dusted with confectionary sugar.

“This, Nico di Angelo, is my Mama Florence’s humble contribution to your cookie search,” Will explained with a mischievous grin. “Read the note.”

_Dear Nico,_

_My grandson Will told me of your search and asked me if I had any ideas. Now, I’m unfortunately not a drop Italian, however, one of my friends from Dallas is. I asked her for any recipes she might remember and she pointed me towards one I think might fit the bill. It’s really quite lovely, and makes cookies that are nearly angelic when dipped into coffee. If this is the right cookie, your mother had quite a sense of humor about her too._

_My grandson gets his worry-wart behavior from me, I’m afraid. We are both apt to fuss. Don’t be afraid to put him in line. But thank you for looking out for him all this time. If there is anything else you would like, ask my grandson. I’m always happy to bake for the people that bring William joy._

_Sincerely, Florence Solace_

“So it isn’t just you who is disgustingly nice I see,” Nico said with a roll of his eyes.

“Nope, I’m Solace born and bred,” Will laughed as he popped the “p” between his lips. “Mama was right though, they are really good with coffee. Try one.”

Nico took one, and took a bite.

Immediately he felt as if he had just been righted. The consistency felt right, not as hard as a traditional biscotti but with enough chew. Flavor burst into his mouth with in intensity, anise, cinnamon, and lemon tickled, while almond soothed and smoothed with the light airy sweetness of the sugar to round it. His next bite he took after dipping the cookie into coffee, gasping as coffee softened and melted the cookie in his mouth and its taste being so perfect.

His eyes were stinging oddly, and he felt his mouth twisting into a weird mix of smile and scowl at his own ridiculousness. But more than anything he wanted to laugh because he remembered. He remembered the warmth of the oven, the gentle stroking of his mother’s fingers through his hair, the taste of biscotti and strong coffee on his tongue, and it was all so right.

“Oh Mamma, Ossa dei Morti? Really?” Nico laughed and for once he felt his worries drift away like sugar melting over coffee. He rubbed his eyes, (definitely not wiping away tears). Will didn’t say a word about the tears but instead gave a tender look that was only meant for him.

“What does that mean?”

“No, it’s the name of the cookie. Ossa dei Morti means Bones of the Dead,” Nico said unable to help cracking up. It was a good-hurt laugh, and Nico relished it. “They’re a cookie you make for All Saints’ Day.”

“Your mom had a sense of humor, huh?” Will commented before giving a teasing quirk of mouth. “No wonder you turned out twisted, Death Boy.”

“Shut up,” Nico said, giving Will a solid elbow in the side. Will whined dramatically, throwing his head down on the table and one hand clenched on his side. “Stop being an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” Will reminded him before reaching to grab a cookie. Nico immediately swatted his hand away, totally ignoring the skeletal butterflies in his belly.

“Your grandma gave these to me,” Nico reminded him. “I’m not sure if I want to let you have one.”

“Cheapskate!” Will gasped as if affronted. “That’s my grandma we’re talking about. I’m owed at least half of these.”

“Deal with it,” Nico told him with a scoff as he held out his half-bitten cookie. “I’ll give you half a cookie.”

Nico had meant it as a joke. He certainly hadn’t thought Will would take the provocation seriously. But suddenly Will grasped his hand by his wrist, and forced Nico to feed him. It was so intimate that Nico went complete still, his fingers suddenly tingling at the slightest brush of Will’s lips. Will’s eyes had fluttered shut, and Nico was suddenly entranced with how light his eyelashes were. He had the insane urge to press his own fingers to his mouth, but kept himself as still and rigid as a statue. His face had to have been bright red considering how hot it suddenly felt.

“Sorry,” Will said, immediately baking up to give him space. Nico just shook his head and placed his hands on his knees to keep himself from doing anything to stupid. “You’re just too cute not to tease.”

“I am not cute,” Nico tried to argue. 

“Nico di Angelo, you are a regular fluffy puppy,” Will laughed. Nico just shook his head and slid Will his own cookie as he grasped a second one.

Memories of his mother, good biscotti, and Will Solace, Nico thought gratefully. Those were three more things to add to his list of things that made him happy.


End file.
